


screen

by writingdice



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-13 04:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16885785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingdice/pseuds/writingdice
Summary: “When you meet someone as fucked up as you are, you oughta keep them with you. The fuck ups oughta stick together.”





	screen

Stanley fought his thoughts as deep bright colors swirled around him. He can hear and feel his every breath and heartbeats. He can feel the dirty carpet he’s laid out on.

Rick sat on the equally dirty bed, ranting about an infinity of things: science, new ways to get fucked up, new ways to make money. How could Rick be so chatty when they’re completely out of it? Rick’s voice was slower than usual, but he couldn’t stand the sound of it.

“Have you ever imagined how jumping from a building feels like?”, Stanley suddenly asks, interrumpting Rick as he watches the ceiling fan lazily move above him.

“Which way do ya thing it’d be more scary to jump off: facing downwards, watching as the concrete comes closer? Or jumping facing upwards, watching the sky, unable to know how close you are to be just a bloody splat on the ground for someone else to clean?”, he hears Rick take a deep inhale of whatever drug he brought that day, Stan couldn’t remember what it was, and then the slow exhale as Rick lays down as well.

Rick squints his eyes at him, clearly annoyed and then looks up to watch the ceiling fan too. They remain equally silent for about 15 minutes, until Rick coughs, but it sounded more like a forced laugh so Stan is left listening to his friend-of-sorts, wondering if he was okay.

“That’s r-really fucked up, Stan. You, y-you goddamned got fucked up”, Rick mutters.

“You’re the one that brought the drugs, buddy”, Stan says in a neutral voice.

“Y-yeah, well, when I suggested that we got shit faced I-I didn’t, didn’t really mean to, to discuss which way to kill ourselves would be more terrifying”

Stan shrugs and keeps his eyes closed. He thinks of quick falls and lights becoming blurry as he speeds across them and towards the ground. He thinks of falling, watching the night sky with frightened thoughts of it will stop, when it will all be over. Suspended on the air, stuck watching the night sky, never touching the ground.

Stan shudders and looks at Rick, who was already watching him.

“What are you - Why you ask, pal?”, Rick questions him with a glare and a scowl. Stan doesn’t find it in himself to be annoyed at Rick’s attitude.

“If I ever try to jump off a building, would you stop me?”, Stan asks and Rick stays silent for a long time.

Stanley can hear through the slowly rotting walls of the cheap hotel, he hears the arguing couple that is staying on the room next door. He can’t focus on their conversation, the words staying together and blurring into something incoherent inside his mind. He can’t focus on a lot of things like his breathing or the ringing on his ears.

He focuses on Rick’s eyes and face.

“Stan, buddy, y-you know what? I’d, I would probably jump with you”

Stan nods slowly, he expected that sort of answer from him.

“When you meet someone as fucked up as you are, you oughta keep them with you. The fuck ups oughta stick together”

He nods again.

That night becomes a blur of darkness and Rick’s laughter. That night he remembers the couple fighting and the neon lights from a diner infront of the hotel. He remembers kissing Rick and Rick saying something about love being only a chemical reaction. He remembers sensations of pleasure and then nothing.

Morning comes and Stanley wakes up with a massive headache.

Rick is not by his side.


End file.
